Twenty years after
“Now then,” said D’Artagnan, “this is something like; this is a means
of communication. A woman could go up a ladder like that.”
Aramis’s searching look seemed to seek his friend’s thought even at the
bottom of his heart, but D’Artagnan sustained the inquisition with an
air of admirable simplicity. Besides, at that moment he put his foot on
the first step of the ladder and began his descent. In a moment he was
on the ground. Bazin remained at the window.
“Stay there,” said Aramis; “I shall return immediately.”
The two friends went toward the shed. At their approach Planchet came
out leading the two horses.
“That is good to see,” said Aramis. “There is a servant active and
vigilant, not like that lazy fellow Bazin, who is no longer good for
anything since he became connected with the church. Follow us,
Planchet; we shall continue our conversation to the end of the
village.”
They traversed the width of the village, talking of indifferent things,
then as they reached the last houses:
“Go, then, dear friend,” said Aramis, “follow your own career. Fortune
lavishes her smiles upon you; do not let her flee from your embrace. As
for me, I remain in my humility and indolence. Adieu!”
“Thus ’tis quite decided,” said D’Artagnan, “that what I have to offer
to you does not tempt you?”
“On the contrary, it would tempt me were I any other man,” rejoined
Aramis; “but I repeat, I am made up of contradictions. What I hate
to-day I adore to-morrow, and vice versa. You see that I cannot, like
you, for instance, settle on any fixed plan.”
“Thou liest, subtile one,” said D’Artagnan to himself. “Thou alone, on
the contrary, knowest how to choose thy object and to gain it
stealthily.”
The friends embraced. They descended into the plain by the ladder.
Planchet met them hard by the shed. D’Artagnan jumped into the saddle,
then the old companions in arms again shook hands. D’Artagnan and
Planchet spurred their steeds and took the road to Paris.
But after he had gone about two hundred steps D’Artagnan stopped short,
alighted, threw the bridle of his horse over the arm of Planchet and
took the pistols from his saddle-bow to fasten them to his girdle.
“What’s the matter?” asked Planchet.
“This is the matter: be he ever so cunning he shall never say I was his
dupe. Stand here, don’t stir, turn your back to the road and wait for
me.”
Having thus spoken, D’Artagnan cleared the ditch by the roadside and
crossed the plain so as to wind around the village. He had observed
between the house that Madame de Longueville inhabited and the convent
of the Jesuits, an open space surrounded by a hedge.
The moon had now risen and he could see well enough to retrace his
road.
He reached the hedge and hid himself behind it; in passing by the house
where the scene which we have related took place, he remarked that the
window was again lighted up and he was convinced that Aramis had not
yet returned to his own apartment and that when he did it would not be
alone.
In truth, in a few minutes he heard steps approaching and low whispers.
Close to the hedge the steps stopped.
D’Artagnan knelt down near the thickest part of the hedge.
Two men, to the astonishment of D’Artagnan, appeared shortly; soon,
however, his surprise vanished, for he heard the murmurs of a soft,
harmonious voice; one of these two men was a woman disguised as a
cavalier.
“Calm yourself, dear Rene,” said the soft voice, “the same thing will
never happen again. I have discovered a sort of subterranean passage
which runs beneath the street and we shall only have to raise one of
the marble slabs before the door to open you an entrance and an
outlet.”
“Oh!” answered another voice, which D’Artagnan instantly recognized as
that of Aramis. “I swear to you, princess, that if your reputation did
not depend on precautions and if my life alone were jeopardized——”
“Yes, yes! I know you are as brave and venturesome as any man in the
world, but you do not belong to me alone; you belong to all our party.
Be prudent! sensible!”
“I always obey, madame, when I am commanded by so gentle a voice.”
He kissed her hand tenderly.
“Ah!” exclaimed the cavalier with a soft voice.
“What’s the matter?” asked Aramis.
“Do you not see that the wind has blown off my hat?”
Aramis rushed after the fugitive hat. D’Artagnan took advantage of the
circumstance to find a place in the hedge not so thick, where his
glance could penetrate to the supposed cavalier. At that instant, the
moon, inquisitive, perhaps, like D’Artagnan, came from behind a cloud
and by her light D’Artagnan recognized the large blue eyes, the golden
hair and the classic head of the Duchess de Longueville.
Aramis returned, laughing, one hat on his head and the other in his
hand; and he and his companion resumed their walk toward the convent.
“Good!” said D’Artagnan, rising and brushing his knees; “now I have
thee—thou art a Frondeur and the lover of Madame de Longueville.”
Chapter X.
Monsieur Porthos du Vallon de Bracieux de Pierrefonds.
Thanks to what Aramis had told him, D’Artagnan, who knew already that
Porthos called himself Du Vallon, was now aware that he styled himself,
from his estate, De Bracieux; and that he was, on account of this
estate, engaged in a lawsuit with the Bishop of Noyon. It was, then, in
the neighborhood of Noyon that he must seek that estate. His itinerary
was promptly determined: he would go to Dammartin, from which place two
roads diverge, one toward Soissons, the other toward Compiègne; there
he would inquire concerning the Bracieux estate and go to the right or
to the left according to the information obtained.
Planchet, who was still a little concerned for his safety after his
recent escapade, declared that he would follow D’Artagnan even to the
end of the world, either by the road to the right or by that to the
left; only he begged his former master to set out in the evening, for
greater security to himself. D’Artagnan suggested that he should send
word to his wife, so that she might not be anxious about him, but
Planchet replied with much sagacity that he was very sure his wife
would not die of anxiety through not knowing where he was, while he,
Planchet, remembering her incontinence of tongue, would die of anxiety
if she did know.
This reasoning seemed to D’Artagnan so satisfactory that he no further
insisted; and about eight o’clock in the evening, the time when the
vapors of night begin to thicken in the streets, he left the Hotel de
la Chevrette, and followed by Planchet set forth from the capital by
way of the Saint Denis gate.
At midnight the two travelers were at Dammartin, but it was then too
late to make inquiries—the host of the Cygne de la Croix had gone to
bed.
The next morning D’Artagnan summoned the host, one of those sly Normans
who say neither yes nor no and fear to commit themselves by giving a
direct answer. D’Artagnan, however, gathered from his equivocal replies
that the road to the right was the one he ought to take, and on that
uncertain information he resumed his journey. At nine in the morning he
reached Nanteuil and stopped for breakfast. His host here was a good
fellow from Picardy, who gave him all the information he needed. The
Bracieux estate was a few leagues from Villars-Cotterets.
D’Artagnan was acquainted with Villars-Cotterets, having gone thither
with the court on several occasions; for at that time Villars-Cotterets
was a royal residence. He therefore shaped his course toward that place
and dismounted at the Dauphin d’Or. There he ascertained that the
Bracieux estate was four leagues distant, but that Porthos was not at
Bracieux. Porthos had, in fact, been involved in a dispute with the
Bishop of Noyon in regard to the Pierrefonds property, which adjoined
his own, and weary at length of a legal controversy which was beyond
his comprehension, he put an end to it by purchasing Pierrefonds and
added that name to his others. He now called himself Du Vallon de
Bracieux de Pierrefonds, and resided on his new estate.
The travelers were therefore obliged to stay at the hotel until the
next day; the horses had done ten leagues that day and needed rest. It
is true they might have taken others, but there was a great forest to
pass through and Planchet, as we have seen, had no liking for forests
after dark.
There was another thing that Planchet had no liking for and that was
starting on a journey with a hungry stomach. Accordingly, D’Artagnan,
on awaking, found his breakfast waiting for him. It need not be said
that Planchet in resuming his former functions resumed also his former
humility and was not ashamed to make his breakfast on what was left by
D’Artagnan.
It was nearly eight o’clock when they set out again. Their course was
clearly defined: they were to follow the road toward Compiègne and on
emerging from the forest turn to the right.
The morning was beautiful, and in this early springtime the birds sang
on the trees and the sunbeams shone through the misty glades, like
curtains of golden gauze.
In other parts of the forest the light could scarcely penetrate through
the foliage, and the stems of two old oak trees, the refuge of the
squirrel, startled by the travelers, were in deep shadow.
There came up from all nature in the dawn of day a perfume of herbs,
flowers and leaves, which delighted the heart. D’Artagnan, sick of the
closeness of Paris, thought that when a man had three names of his
different estates joined one to another, he ought to be very happy in
such a paradise; then he shook his head, saying, “If I were Porthos and
D’Artagnan came to make me such a proposition as I am going to make to
him, I know what I should say to it.”
As to Planchet, he thought of little or nothing, but was happy as a
hunting-hound in his old master’s company.
At the extremity of the wood D’Artagnan perceived the road that had
been described to him, and at the end of the road he saw the towers of
an immense feudal castle.
“Oh! oh!” he said, “I fancied this castle belonged to the ancient
branch of Orléans. Can Porthos have negotiated for it with the Duc de
Longueville?”
“Faith!” exclaimed Planchet, “here’s land in good condition; if it
belongs to Monsieur Porthos I wish him joy.”
“Zounds!” cried D’Artagnan, “don’t call him Porthos, nor even Vallon;
call him De Bracieux or De Pierrefonds; thou wilt knell out damnation
to my mission otherwise.”
As he approached the castle which had first attracted his eye,
D’Artagnan was convinced that it could not be there that his friend
dwelt; the towers, though solid and as if built yesterday, were open
and broken. One might have fancied that some giant had cleaved them
with blows from a hatchet.
On arriving at the extremity of the castle D’Artagnan found himself
overlooking a beautiful valley, in which, at the foot of a charming
little lake, stood several scattered houses, which, humble in their
aspect, and covered, some with tiles, others with thatch, seemed to
acknowledge as their sovereign lord a pretty château, built about the
beginning of the reign of Henry IV., and surmounted by four stately,
gilded weather-cocks. D’Artagnan no longer doubted that this was
Porthos’s pleasant dwelling place.
The road led straight up to the château which, compared to its ancestor
on the hill, was exactly what a fop of the coterie of the Duc d’Enghein
would have been beside a knight in steel armor in the time of Charles
VII. D’Artagnan spurred his horse on and pursued his road, followed by
Planchet at the same pace.
In ten minutes D’Artagnan reached the end of an alley regularly planted
with fine poplars and terminating in an iron gate, the points and
crossed bars of which were gilt. In the midst of this avenue was a